Hundred yard bull’s eye.

Bumped into a Praying Mantis today. Even with laryngitis I sang. I tried to. I tried to sing for the mantis but I was dying. It is a rale, in my chest. An abnormal rasp perceived in the lungs, indication a congestion of things. But I can breathe. Do Breathe.

Cut this malignant worry from my ribs so that only black remains – without crushing need to hold; to have, to halve, and to heave. Let me breathe through all the scar tissue of my paranoia.

The mantis acknowledged me.
Tears in its big ugly eyes and it said,

“Oh you silly sad poet. you’re not dying any time soon and certainly not now.”

and we shared a moment of silence together, then I walked away.

Now I am grabbing the day by the neck and twisting the life out of it. Watching the purple of its choke rise up in its throat. Now I am kissing it goodbye on the lips like Humphrey Bogart. I wish I could offer you sempiternal love phrases, like ‘forever and a day’, or ‘happily ever after’ instead of second hand litany of cynical susceptibility.

From first moment I met you, you became the persuasion of my transformation so that I might draw sustenance from your instincts. Slow movements are retroactive and retrograde. When we consume, we partake and sate like blood worms being fed to ravenous gulping mouths.

“Be still”, I say, and I will feed you achingly.
What is the simple pleasure of watching consonance beat the shit out of dissonance in a 3 round cage match? I watched them both, swinging and swaying and I saw that the bloody violence they shared
was my exact envy.

And then the next moment they stopped fighting all together and I couldn’t understand why.


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